


winter on your cheek, summer in your heart

by redbrunja



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: "Kuryakin, the Kremlin has requested your immediate return."
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32
Collections: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Winter Holiday Gift Exchange 2020





	winter on your cheek, summer in your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Somedeepmystery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/gifts).



> The title is paraphrased from the poem "Es liegt der heiße Sommer" by Heinrich Heine.

"Kuryakin," Waverly said gravely. "The Kremlin has requested your immediate return."

Across the conference table, Gaby froze in the process of flipping through the file of a contact in Algiers. Solo exhaled heavily and ran his thumb along the band of his signet ring.

"That's everything," Waverly finished. "Dismissed."

There was one moment of tense silence and then Gaby shoved her chair back from the table, the legs screeching against the floor. Illya tried to met her eyes but she didn't even spare him a glance.

Solo leisurely rose and then sauntered towards the door. He was looking Illya full in the face and appeared to be trying to communicate something via his eyebrows. Illya had no idea what.

Illya followed him towards the door and then firmly shut the door on Solo's heels.

Waverly was watching him carefully, hands folded under his chin.

Illya walked over to him. He stood at attention.

This is why the Kremlin had requested Agent Illya Kuryakin's immediate return to Moscow:

A nuclear scientist working in an research and development lab Illya didn't officially have the seniority to know about had stolen a suitcase nuke and fled. All signs pointed to the scientist throwing his lot in with an organization of rogue dissidents unaffiliated with a specific country. UNCLE was the perfect organization to catch him. Also international, if UNCLE stepped on a few toes in the process of saving the world, no single country would bare the blame.

KGB agent Yelizaveta Volkova chased the scientist from Odessa, through Yugoslavia and into Italy. She was supposed to chase him right into UNCLE's hands, waiting for him in Venice.

In Venice, fleeing capture, he had thrown himself into the backseat of a Lancia Appia driven by one of his thugs. Before the car could speed away, Gaby vaunted through an open window and into the front seat. She and the thug had wrestled for control of the vehicle, Illya and Volkova chasing on foot.

The car swerved wildly back and forth across the street before slamming into a telephone pole, the scientist scrambling back out of the car. He glanced at Illya and Volkova and took off running, clutching the bomb prototype in his arms like a baby.

The vehicle reversed back, across the street and straight into a canal.

Volkova veered to chase after the scientist and Illya ran to the edge of the canal, reaching it in time to see Gaby's dark head break the surface. Two stokes took her to the edge of the waterway, and Illya leaned down. He grasped her hand and pulled her up.

When they turned, Volkova had the scientist pinned to the ground, the prototype resting on the cobblestones and blinking ominously.

Gaby dashed over, her bright minidress clinging to her form. She swore in German and then demanded a knife from Illya. He provided it, and she quickly pried a compartment open, a few quick moments of her hand and then the device went dark.

Illya and Gaby shared a triumphant look and when Illya glanced at Volkova, she was staring at him with ice in her blue eyes.

Illya had returned to London certain that in her report to their superiors, she would be mentioning that he had went after Gaby before securing the scientist.

"Mr. Waverly," Illya said now, to his boss. "In regards to the offer you made me after the mission in Venice... I would like to accept."

"I am pleased that you will be staying with us," Waverly replied. "I'll let you inform Gaby and Solo. And then I suggest you keep your head down for bit. Maybe the safehouse in the Cotswalds?"

"Yes, sir," Illya agreed.

He felt curiously calm. He remembered discussing the details with Waverly, and it had felt precipitous and fantastical. He had left that meeting questioning if it had even happened.

The logistics before him now felt as commonplace as laying out the parameters of a mission.

Illya stepped out of the room.

Solo was leaning against the wall outside, not even pretending not to be eavesdropping.

"So you've decided to stick around for a while? I commend your taste," Solo quipped.

"Where's Gaby?" Illya asked, ignoring Solo's banter.

Solo shrugged. "She left as soon as Waverly dismissed us."

Illya took the stairs at a run.

Outside, rain was spitting down from slate-grey clouds. The streets were slick and glistening, pedestrians huddled under umbrellas and holding hats to their heads.

Illya flicked up his collar, ignored the raindrops stinging his face, and chased after Gaby.

He caught a glimpse of her a block away from the tube station. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her navy-blue peacoat as she strode away from him.

"Gaby!" he called and she stopped.

She didn't turn.

"Gaby," he said again, at her side now, breath rattling in his chest, his cheeks flushed from his run, from the chill and damp.

Gaby turned to him, looked up, her bangs plastered to her forehead.

She lifted her chin, set her jaw. "I don't want to say goodbye to you, Illya," she snapped. "There was no need to chase after me."

"Goodbyes are not needed," Illya reassured her.

"That is what I _just said_ ," Gaby practically snarled.

"I'm not going," Illya said.

Gaby's mouth dropped open in shock.

"I'm not leaving," he assured her, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. "I'm staying with UNCLE." This was no time to equivocate. "I want to stay here, with you. For you."

Gaby's eyes flicked across his face, searching for something. Then her gaze steadied, and she threw herself in his arms. She gripped the lapels of his coat and dragged his head down, kissing him hard.

Illya pressed her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other buried in her wet hair.

Gaby nipped at his bottom lip and then soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue. He responded with a string of quick, hard kisses. Someone in a hurry tried to shove past Illya and then bounced off when he refused to move. There was no where he'd rather be than kissing Gabriella Teller in the London rain.


End file.
